Well, Then
by Yorkshire Pudding
Summary: James and Lily are in a tiff and Sirius plans to set them right while Peter and Remus panic over the latest oral presentation for Herbology and at least one accidental Juvenility Potion in Prof. McGonagall’s drink. . .hijinks ensue. Beware my tendency to


Title: Well, Then

Author: Yorkshire Pudding

Summary: James and Lily are in a tiff and Sirius plans to set them right while Peter and Remus panic over the latest oral presentation for Herbology and at least one accidental Juvenility Potion in Prof. McGonagall's drink. . .hijinks ensue. Beware my tendency to include Remus/Sirius romantic tidbits, o ye homophobes! It hasn't happened (much) yet, but . . . beware!

Notes: I am having a helluva good time writing this fic so, despite my predilection to finish a fic before posting, I wanted to share sortuv en route. If you have any ideas you would like me to include, send'em my way. I have a couple more pranks in mind, but I could use some more. Oh, and at least one of the pranks in this chapter is copied (more or less) directly out of P.G. Wodehouse because he's lovely and great fun. If you are unfamiliar with him, remedy the situation immediately. The world will seem a better place afterwards.

"There's nothing for it, as far as I can see. Something must be done."

These word, innocuous as they might seem to the casual observer, were the recipe for disaster when spoken by this particular speaker. According to popular opinion, even the stars must have gone a shade paler when faced with the birth of the notorious trouble-maker known to friends and foes alike as Sirius Black. Some of his relatives had taken one look at the baby and said, "Well, _that_ won't work." Of course, as his entire family was a long procession of pansy bigots, their opinion was not worth the time spent listening to it. Still. The baby had stared up from his cradle with a mischievous glint that had never quitted him since. Hence, when he said, "Something must be done," anyone who was even vaguely acquainted with his character inwardly groaned. Or, at least, _most _of them inwardly groaned. There were a few exceptions. Outward groaners, for example. His close friend, Remus Lupin, was one of those afore-mentioned outward groaners. He exercised this ability at this juncture in the conversation.

"Look, Padfoot, as much as I think James would adore having you interfere in his love life," he started after finishing his groan, "I do have this nagging doubt that, perhaps, said love life might be better off without." He turned a page in _Incantations from Around the World_ decisively, hoping it would serve as an end to the discussion.

"Nonsense," Sirius said, dispelling Remus' brief moment of hopefulness, "James doesn't know what's good for him. Obviously he just needs a good old nudge in the right direction and Lily will be, once more, piping love's merry call and such." Remus raised an eyebrow at the mangled expression but refrained from commenting.

"Do I want to know what you are planning? Will it frighten me if I do?" he asked, turning another page equally as decisively.

"Well, when you put it like that, I don't think I want to tell you," Sirius said in a half-hearted huff. "In fact, I will just let you stew in your ignorance." He stood, stretching. His stretching was a much more effective end to the conversation than Remus' page-turning had been. "You'll see, Mooney," he said, gathering his books from the floor where he had discarded them hours earlier (though they had sat on his lap, unopened, for hours previous to that), "It will be brilliant."

All who had ever ventured to even introduce themselves in passing to Sirius Black knew that was an equally dangerous statement. In fact, if you had to weigh the two, "Something must be done," really didn't have much oomph in it after all. "It will be brilliant," had the title of Most Dangerous Utterance hands down. Inward groaners would, most likely, have been prompted to become outward groaners to hear them both slip into conversation within a two minute span of each other.

Sirius' scheme didn't seem too dangerous to him. He knew he had a reputation of sorts for the creation of, at least, three memorable explosions (two of which were in the Slytherin bathrooms) and a large handful of pranks that would be repeated reverently by pranksters in the hallways of Hogwarts long after he had graduated. Whenever people spoke of said events, it was usually closely followed by a comment along the lines of, "But don't let him within a mile of your love life." Yes, he had mangled a potential opportunity of Peter Pettigrew's in the third year to have an absolutely stunning fifth year girl as a girlfriend, but his intentions had been noble. He had thought, all things considered, that she might appreciate a serenade by Peter. In the Mess Hall. On Valentine's Day. With everyone watching. Peter hadn't fancied the idea, so Sirius had jinxed him. Poor Peter had ended up, like a marionette, doing a staccato version of a rather corny love song (Peter had, more or less, been able to suppress the memory, but every so often, he would awake drenched in cold sweat with the words, "My love for you is like a broom through my skull," floating musically through his mind) accompanied by some robot-like dance moves that Sirius hadn't ever been able to work the kinks out of in his spell. Needless to say, the girl had been very red and very upset and hadn't so much as looked at Peter since.

Then again, the rumor that she was interested in him in the first place might have been untrue. Sirius thought that was the most probable explanation. So, really, he'd never had the chance to prove his romantic prowess. He still might be able to add, "matchmaker extraordinaire" to the end of his long list of talents.

Actually, the scheme he had in mind wasn't very complex. He would just sprinkle a drop or two of a temporary love potion into James' drink at dinner and watch Lily grow green with jealousy as James trotted after the next female who walked into view. Lily would be purple by the time the spell wore off and desperate for the return of her erstwhile beau and James would be happy to comply. It would be as if they had never had a tiff in the first place.

The tiff in question was a particularly nasty one. As far as Sirius had been able to discern, there had been a comment about Lily's perfume followed immediately by a return comment about James' hair. Neither would back down from their position on those subjects and so neither was ready to make the first step towards reconciliation. Obviously, at least in Sirius' opinion, all that was needed was a reminder of how much their mutual affection outweighed comments about hair and perfume.

There was at least one possible snag in his plan. The fact of the matter was that Sirius just wasn't all that hot in Potions. They were boring and . . . well, just boring was enough to lose Sirius' affections. He was inexperienced, true, but how hard could a love potion be? You always heard stories about Muggles attempting them, and if they could sometimes manage it, any halfway decent wizard should have an easy time with it.

This was the reasoning running through Sirius' head as he flipped through a copy of _Potential Potions: A Study in the Intricacies of Potion-Brewing_. Passing the Libido Potion (though he made a mental note to return to it for future pranks) and the Limivorous Potion (apparently having something to do with making mud edible), he eventually found the recipe he was looking for. It called for some unusual components, but he had snitched things from the Potions storage before and would no doubt be doing it many more times before he finished his stay at Hogwarts. It also called for some laborious chopping (It specified by hand, something to do with personal involvement) and . . . His composure faltered for a minute when he realized he would need some part of the intended party to include in the mixture. A part? What the hell did it mean, a part? It had a footnote which read, "Many wizards have found that anything that has recently come into direct contact with the intended object of the spell will work just as well as parts of their bodies. In the Middle Ages, wizards often would chop off fingers or toes for their Potion, but that barbaric custom has almost entirely been discarded." Well, thank goodness for that. Sirius didn't fancy having to chop a toe off James without his noticing.

There was also a small warning near the end of the recipe which read, "WARNING: This Potion has been known to have unpredictable side effects when consumed by anyone other than the intended object." Sirius nodded. That just meant that he should be extra careful that the Potion made its way to James and no one else. Simple enough.

"I can't _believe_ we have to read our essays to the entire class," James grumbled as he slumped lower in his chair in front of the Gryffindor fireplace. "Really. . .they're boring enough to write without having to listen to everyone else's."

The assignment in question was the product of one of the more liberal-minded professors of Hogwarts, the very young and very forward-thinking Herbology professor. A firm believer in everything communal, he had come up with the idea of having them read their essays for the class in hopes of debate and a general exchange of ideas. He didn't realize that he was talking to a group of hormonal teens who would rather not, given the option, admit that anyone else could have a valid opinion. They were, for the majority, going through a stage of fierce independence and not at all communal.

Peter had gone white when the professor had explained his idea and had yet to regain his color.

"I just can't," he began to stutter, a little unclearly, "I can't _possibly_ be expected. . ." He trailed off in mid sentence, his distraction was so bad. He turned, instead, to biting nervously on his quill. Sirius thumped him on the back in what, he hoped, was an encouraging way. Peter choked on his quill briefly but quickly recovered his composure.

"It won't be as bad as all that," Sirius said comfortingly. "Hey, Remus is at least twice as shy as you are and he isn't nervous." No sooner had the words left his mouth than a shape vaguely resembling Remus entered the room. I say "vaguely resembling" because he was mostly obscured by the large stack of books he was staggering under the weight of.

"Mooney! What the devil are you doing with all those books?" James demanded, pulling the top ten off to get a view of Remus' face. The face revealed was quite red with effort and the eyes were like the eyes of a mouse cornered by a ravenous basilisk.

"Well, we have that presentation," the last word was spoken with obvious distaste, "and I need to be really prepared. You know – what if someone asks a question? I need to be triple prepared." He slid the tall stack of books onto the floor in front of the fireplace. "I just need to do some refreshing of the basic theory of Horticulture and some review of the ancestry of the field, maybe some extra reading on. . ." Sirius waved a hand in front of his face.

"That's not triple prepared. That's insane," he pointed out. Remus didn't even notice he had spoken, he had already opened _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ by Phyllida Spore.

"Remus! We finished with that book in first year!" James pointed out. Remus waved a hand absent-mindedly.

"I need to review, you know, re-memorize some things," he explained. Sirius snorted.

"_Re_-memorize? Are you kidding me? I bet you know all this stuff with your eyes closed," he said as Remus unslung a black shoulder-bag and started unpacking even more books from it. The pile on the floor now looked a bit like a mini-Herbology library. James picked one up at random.

"Yeah – I don't have the slightest clue what to do with an Alihotsy leaf, but I bet you do," James said, glancing at the first word that popped out in _Encyclopedia of Edible Plants_. "Wait. . . Hey, get this, Sirius – eating the leaves causes you to break out in hysteria!" They both grinned.

"I guess the only question is, 'How do we get our hands on some?'" Sirius said, grabbing the book out of James' hands.

"Good luck with that," Remus said, without even looking away from the text his finger was trailing along, "It's native to Africa."

"See? I knew you'd have everything already memorized from all of these silly books," Sirius said triumphantly. "Hold on a second. Why DO you have everything in these books memorized? Professor Germinate has never even mentioned some of this stuff."

"You never know what might come in handy some day, especially in a class where the teacher is prone to make people talk in front of other people," Remus said, giving the whole end-of-conversation page turn another go. Apparently, this attempt was no more successful than the other because Sirius scooped up another book and continued to comment on the passages as he flipped through them.

"Look, Mooney, if you're seriously that nervous about doing this presentation, I'm sure there's something we could do to help," James said, elbowing Sirius in the ribs to shut him up. Remus employed his outward groaning skills again.

"I'm sure I can manage without, thanks," he said caustically.

"No, really," Sirius continued for James, rubbing his injured rib, "We'll come up with something brilliant. An anti-anxiety charm or something. There has to be stuff for this sort of thing."

"If you're going to be casting anti-anxiety charms anyway," Peter said, pulling his nose out of Remus' notes which he had nicked from the bag Remus had discarded, "How about sending one over this way?"

"Yeah, 'course we will," James said, "Now, all we have to do is find such a charm."

"Might not be a charm, it might be a potion. You might have to do lots of research in the _library_," Remus pointed out. "And we all know how much you _love_ the library." Both James' and Sirius' faces fell at the realization. Remus grinned.

"Wait a minute, isn't there a thing in libraries," Sirius started to say, clutching at a vague memory of somebody leading him into the Hogwarts library at some point and trying to show him around when all he had been interested in, at the time, was the Restricted Section, "A . . . wossname. . . a thing that has, like, a list of the books and stuff. Like a catalog or something." James seemed to pick up this glimmer of hope.

"Yeah! A . . . something! Whatever it's called!" he agreed, nodding furiously as if his vocal agreement hadn't been clear enough. "We just have to look up 'Anxiety Prevention' or some-such drivel and, Presto!" he snapped his fingers enthusiastically which made Peter jump, "No more stress for Mooney."

"Or Wormtail," Peter reminded them.

"Or Wormtail," James agreed. "I do believe we are brilliant, Mr. Padfoot."

"Amazingly brilliant, I'd say," Sirius agreed. "And I'd suggest getting right down to the dirty work, but my stomach informs me that it is dinner time."

"My stomach thinks your stomach is extremely wise," James agreed, patting the organ in question. "Food should always take precedence."

"Agreed," Sirius said, snatching the book out of Remus' hands and pulling him to his feet, "Especially over school work. And _especially_ especially if that school work isn't due for a week." Remus opened his mouth to protest and closed it again. Protestation, as countless previous experiences had taught him, did little to discourage the combined willpower of James Potter and Sirius Black.

The portrait swung inward as the four boys approached it. An awkward silence followed the red-head who appeared in the opening.

"James," she said coldly.

"Lily," he responded with equal frigidity.

"Ponce," Sirius continued blithely. "And Hooter," he added, indicating Remus, "And of course, Weasel." The last was accompanied with a head jerk in the direction of Peter.

Peter rolled his eyes and eyed the doorway impatiently. His stomach quietly grumbled in accordance.

"What?" Sirius asked innocently as both James and Lily pooled their combined iciness in his direction. "I thought we were just saying names. I thought up some brilliant ones, right?"

Lily rolled her eyes dramatically and almost walked straight through Remus and would have done some serious damage if he hadn't pressed against Sirius to give her room to storm through. Granted, Peter would have been an easier target, but Remus somehow managed to make it to Sirius instead, who was standing behind Peter who was standing behind Remus.

"I supposed you lot are off to stuff your faces," she said over her shoulder as she turned towards the girls' tower. "I bet, if applied correctly, the butter would do wonders for your hair, James. I mean," she added viciously, as one is want to do when comments have been made about one's perfume, "Anything's got to be better than _as is_."

"I'm sorry, didn't catch that last bit," James retorted with equal venom, "I caught the tail end of _somebody's_ perfume and haven't been able to see straight since."

"You couldn't see straight to begin with," Lily shot back, quick as lightning. With that last sally, and James spluttering, she ascended.

"Ouch, mate," Remus said consolingly.

"Right nasty," Peter agreed.

"Bit below the belt," Sirius appended. "Butter wouldn't do you a bit of good. Makes the hair all oily." He nodded sagely at his own wisdom. James hit him on the back of the head.

Dinner was another brilliant Hogwarts event. You hear tell, every now and then, about some piteous school with atrocious meals and you feel blessed in your own good luck and thank your lucky stars for the Hogwarts' house elves. At least, that's pretty much the way all four of the boys felt about it. You could love your mother and adore her cooking, but a Hogwarts' meal was always a _feast_. One must give credit where credit is due.

As James munched happily on a particularly plump roll, Sirius pushed a brimming full cup of pumpkin juice in his direction. James was too involved in the roll to notice, but there was a certain glint in Sirius' eye as he watched James lift the cup to his lips.

Something caught James' attention before the juice could make a complete journey into the depths of his throat. He had caught sight of Professor McGonagall at the teacher's table, and though that didn't usually cause him to disengage beverages en route to his stomach, this time it did. A thought had sprung into his mind simultaneously to the sight-catching which had entirely pre-empted the cup of pumpkin juice on his list of priorities.

"I'm just going to pop over and ask McGonagall if she knows any anti-anxiety charms," he said, shoving his chair back. He was in such an excitement over his brilliance that he forgot the cup was still in his hand as he trotted merrily towards the front of the hall. Sirius swore inwardly.

"Alright, what have you done?" Remus asked him. Sirius started in surprise, a state that often comes hand in hand with 'starting'. Remus had his head resting against one hand, elbow propped on the table, and was pondering Sirius' face as it shifted between his options: excuses, denial, and settled on admittance.

"All right, you know how I said I'd think of something brilliant to get James and Lily back together?" Sirius began excitedly, not at all bothered by what looked like an attempt on Remus' part to begin another groan, a skill he was honing a lot today. "Well, I have this _brilliant_ plan . . ."

He was forced to stop in mid sentence because James had returned.

"McGonagall says there's a charm a bit like that in _Charity Charms_ by Bethany Chisel," he reported, "Says it's just what we're looking for." He took a swig of the contents of the cup in his hand.

"Eugh! What is this bloody stuff?" he exclaimed, spewing it back into the cup in a very un-gentlemanlike gesture.

"What are you on about? It's pumpkin juice," Sirius said, puzzled, and took a sip of the stuff himself followed immediately by a very similar reaction.

"Eugh!" he agreed, "This is . . . I think it's prune juice!" He looked at the cup a little closer. "Wait a minute. . .this isn't the same cup!" James slapped a hand to his forehead.

"Blimey! I must have switched cups with McGonagall by accident," he laughed. "I hope she likes pumpkin juice. How _can_ she swallow this stuff? It's like bubotuber puss!"

"You don't mean," Sirius said, his face going pale, "_Professor McGonagall_ has got _your_ pumpkin juice?"

"Well, I don't see what else could have . . ."James trailed off, realization slowly spreading across his features, "Oh no. What did you do?"

Sirius spluttered, much in the same way James had earlier when Lily had made the last comment about his straight vision. "Who says I did anything at all?" he said as panic turned his features pink. "_I_ certainly haven't been up to anything."

"Oh my goodness," Remus sighed, "What have you done to McGonagall?"

"You'd better just spill, Padfoot," James said darkly.

"Fine. I was mentioning to Mooney here earlier that what your situation with a certain redhead needed was a little outside assistance," Sirius began and James had a go at Remus' favorite activity of the day and let out a groan. "Now, see here. I haven't even begun yet," Sirius said, a little offended.

"Oh, please, _do_ continue," James said. "I can't _wait_ to hear what you had in store for me, your oldest and best of friends."

"I was just thinking that a little jealousy might be just what the doctor ordered. So I whipped up a temporary love potion this afternoon," Sirius explained, "No, don't look at me like that. It makes perfect sense, even you have to see that, Prongs."

"Oh, _perfect_ sense."

"I knew you'd agree once you thought it over. But, see, the real bugger is that there was a warning which said that there could be unforeseen side effects if the wrong person got a hold of the potion."

"Padfoot," Remus asked, a little wary of the answer his question might incite, "How does the potion know if its been swallowed by the wrong person?"

"Well, I had to use something of James' in the potion, right?" Sirius explained calmly, if a little impatiently, "It used to have to be parts of their bodies, but the book said it would probably work just as well with something that had recently been in close contact with them instead. So I nicked a pair of James' socks and tossed 'em in."

"Which pair?" James demanded.

"What does it matter which pair? The point is that McGonagall could turn purple and start belching flames or something at any moment!" Sirius explained, very impatient now.

"Well, they were my socks. I'd like to know which socks I don't have anymore," James grumbled. "I hope it wasn't the red pair. I like the red pair. They're good luck."

"It wasn't the red pair, damn it!"

"Or the green pair? I have a soft spot for them too. They've got fuzz on the insides."

"It might have been the green pair. I don't remember!" Sirius said, exasperated.

"It's just like you to nick my green pair," James complained.

"Um," Remus interjected without his usual wit backing up the statement. Usually he was tops at having a comeback that was a real zinger at any given moment, but he floundered here. His attention, it must be said in his defense, was a bit distracted elsewhere.

"Um," he repeated and this second time around had the desired effect of diverting Sirius and James' attention in a similar direction to his own.

"Oh my," James added. He was also usually in top form as far as repartee goes, not in Remus' class but still right up there with some legendary wits, but it failed him.

Professor McGonagall had lost, if lost is the right word in this case (which it just might be), at least thirty years in the last five minutes. Her robes hung loosely in some areas and had stretched taut in others. Her usually prim hair had undone it's bun and come tumbling out from under her hat. Even as she scrambled to her feet, shock written on every feature, years kept disappearing like . . .well, like something that disappears very quickly. Imagine something, let's say a mouse. And let's say this mouse could move incredibly fast so that it disappeared the moment after you caught a good glimpse of it. That's the rate at which the years were vanishing. Before you could say, "Oh my goodness, my professor's a babe!" she had settled down at, what seemed to be, a general age somewhere in her teens. The Great Hall had gone silent as everyone watched her stand motionless in a state of pure, undiluted shock, but then who could blame her? It's not every day that years begin to drop like flies, right? Could be a bit of a shocker. After what seemed (at least to Sirius) to have been a lifetime, she regained her composure.

"Right," she said, her voice very different from its usual authoritarian and unwavering tone, "Who did it?" Somehow, the much shorter, much differently shaped McGonagall had every bit of the skill in intimidation that her older self had, and Sirius felt his hand rising without his permission.

The people sitting near him all edged away, leaving a clearing around him. McGonagall stalked up to him.

"Stand up, Mr. Black," she ordered and he obeyed, feeling like a giant as he towered over her. "What did you do? I advise you to be brief and to the point."

"Well, Professor, I made a potion," he began.

"Ah. And why, pray tell, was it in my drink?" she asked, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

"I – ah – James switched his drink with you," he stammered.

"By accident!" James added hastily from behind McGonagall. "Honest! I don't even _like_ prune juice. The stuff tastes like. . ." he trailed off as he saw the error of this line of argument.

"So the potion intended for Mr. Potter _accidentally_ ended up as my drink?" she said slowly, her eyes mere slits at this point. "Do you, by any chance, happen to have a copy of the instructions for this potion on you, Mr. Black?"

"Umm – yes. Yes, ma'am. Professor McGonagall," Sirius stammered, fishing his hand-written copy of the recipe out of his pocket, "It's – ah. Well. Here." He handed the bit of parchment over as quickly as possible. She snatched it out of his hand and quickly perused the contents.

"So, Mr. Black, this _Love Potion_ you attempted. Did you realize," she continued slowly and deliberately, "That you had, in fact, copied half of the wrong potion? This is at last halfway a Juvenility Potion you have created. Had Mr. Potter drank it as you intended, he could have been reduced to an infant and madly infatuated with the next female who made an appearance in his line of vision." There was an eruption of laughter around the hall, especially loud at the Slytherin table, which McGonagall effectively silenced with a widespread glare.

"I think, since you are obviously so _keen_ to continue your Potions career," McGonagall said, "You had better be encouraged. In fact, I think you could use a lot of intense Potions work. Perhaps Professor Cialis would appreciate a little help with his pre-class grinding of bicorn horns. I heard him, only this morning, complaining about the lack of assistance." She turned to Professor Cialis, an overweight and lazy man who complained about everything and anything. "You wouldn't mind, would you." It wasn't a question. Even Cialis was powerless in her glare. "Well, that's just lovely. I think about three weeks, every morning at 5:30 AM, should be enough to quell your extra-curriculum desires, Mr. Black."

Sirius nodded.

"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me," she addressed the entire hall now, "I must beg the attentions of Madame Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing." For someone who had turned so rapidly so very curvy, she walked with extreme dignity out of the Hall. Silence reigned for a few more seconds, but the general commotion of mealtime soon returned.

Sirius sank slowly back into his seat.

"She didn't kill me," he said in wonder, "I could have sworn she was going to."

"Yeah, me too," agreed James, disappointed, "You really looked like a goner."

"Thanks, mate."

Remus snorted, and somehow managed to still be very refined. It was a talent he had. Once, when they had all snuck into the Forbidden Forest in the first year and gotten covered in some kind of green ooze (which they later discovered, to their dismay, was the vomit of a very sick thestral) that wouldn't come off no matter how many times they washed, Remus had still managed to look very dignified with a green wad of goo dangling off the end of his nose as they sat in Filch's office waiting for their punishment. Unfortunately, the rest of them had not been so talented and had all looked like. . . well, pre-teenagers covered in green goo.

"Serves you right," he said with the air of someone who 'knew all the time,' "You shouldn't mess with things like love potions. Or," he smirked, "Juvenility Potions either."

"I didn't _mean_ to have the Juvenility part, did I? Besides, it would have worked if. . .if it _had_ worked," Sirius grumbled.

"It would have worked if it had worked? Brilliant reasoning there, Padfoot," James gloated. "But, please, I think I've had enough of your help with Lily." His face clouded over dramatically. "I think that's just the end for us, you know. When comments like that have been uttered, how can two people regain their lost passion?"

Sirius gagged.

"She just made fun of your _hair_, mate," he pointed out, "We do that all the time and you've never lost your _passion_ for us."

"It's different, isn't it?" James said, trying to find a masculine version of pouting, "Girls are. . ." he floundered for words and Sirius offered a few options hopefully.

"Rank? Horrid? Silly creatures?" he suggested.

"Different?" Remus offered. "Honestly, all you have to do is try to think of things from the other perspective and everything clears up." James looked unconvinced.

"Yeah? And how did my one _very_ innocent comment about her perfume equal that nastiness about my hair?" he demanded.

"Well, _I_ don't know," Remus explained, "But I bet _Lily_ does and would _like_ to talk about it with you if you gave her half a chance."

"Nonsense," Sirius interjected. "Remus has never been on a date in his life, don't trust him." His look dared Remus to try to reason around this obvious winning point. "What you need is a little nudge. And I have a plan."

"Oh, please, Padfoot," James groaned, "Not another one. You _just_ barely got away with you life from your last attempt."

"Unimportant. This one will be brilliant," Sirius said. Remus rolled his eyes and opened a textbook he had brought with him. "No, really, it will. Just listen."

"Do I have a choice?" James asked.

"Not in the least. You'll like it," Sirius began, "It goes like this. What does a woman dream of from the moment of her childhood?"

"I dunno. . .a motorcycle?" James offered.

"No, you dunce," Sirius said, annoyed, "She wants to be a damsel in distress type of thing and be rescued by a knight in shining armor."

"Really?" asked Remus, bemused, "And you have this one what authority?"

"Common sense. Go back to your book," Sirius said. "So here's the plan. I'll take a walk with Lily to the lake—"

"I don't want _you_ getting back together with Lily, I want _me_ to get back together with Lily," James protested.

"I'm getting to that part. You'll be hiding in the bushes," Sirius said with an annoyed wave of a hand.

"Oh, that's brilliant. Then I get to _watch_ you take my girlfriend on a romantic walk around the lake. I _adore_ this plan."

"Look, if you keep interrupting, this will be a lot more difficult to pull off, right?" Sirius said exasperatedly. "So, I'll shove Lily in the lake at the last minute, very slyly, and you get to appear, very heroically, and dive in and rescue her." James looked thoughtful.

"You know, that isn't too bad," he mused as Sirius beamed.

"You're not seriously considering it, are you James?" Remus asked, looking up sharply from his book. "I mean, it's _insane_." James and Sirius both nodded.

"Yeah, but it just might work," James said. "Think about it. . .Lily will be pissed at Sirius later, but she'll be reminded of what a great guy _I_ am."

"Modest too," Remus added.

"Yeah, but also think – What was her major objection to James?" Sirius pointed out, "His hair, right? Well, it will be wet and she won't be able to complain."

"What does that have to do with anything?" James demanded. "My hair is _fine_, wet or dry." He ran a hand through it, accidentally making a semi-permanent cowlick at the back stand up straighter. "Hey, wait a minute. . .where'd Peter go?"

All three boys suddenly noticed that Peter had disappeared. His plate (and all the trays of food that had been nearby him) was empty, licked clean. True, Peter had always had a skill for eating much more much faster than anyone else, but that had been an especially quick job even for him.

The three remaining boys exchanged a three-way glance which, if you have ever tried you know, is quite difficult. It involves everybody not looking back at the person who's looking at them and then switching very quickly. It requires skill and concentration and, for optimal results, practice. The Marauders had the four-way glance down to a perfection (it was necessary for a friendship as large as theirs) but the three-way. . .well, not many people ever truly master it.

"He might just have gotten scared by McGonagall," James suggested. "It's only natural."

"Yeah, but the _food_," Remus pointed out. "There's still some he didn't _eat_ on the table. He _never_ leaves before the food does." His point was filled with undeniable logic. This left two options, which Sirius was kind enough to vocalize.

"So he's either sick or. . ." he pondered. "I guess he must just be sick."

"He might be studying, you know," Remus suggested, "He was so nervous about that presentation."

"Well, either way," James said, getting down the real meat of the issue, "We either have to go find him now or finish eating and _then_ go find him, and I feel that, despite our very strong affection for Peter, our stomachs might have to be the first priority here."

"Especially since Padfoot here is going to be having detention starting in the morning," Remus added maliciously with a snigger. "You'll want to keep your energy up."

"Funny. So funny I forgot to laugh," Sirius responded with a very mature tongue stuck out. "The _point_ is that we'll go look for him _after_ dinner right?" The other two looked at the steaming heaps of succulent food surrounding them and nodded.

"Can't hurt him."

"Definitely not. 'S not like we're his mother or something."

"Absolutely. He's a big boy."

Their wisdom all expounded, they tuckered in one more time and barely came up for air for the next half hour, devouring anything cooked that was within an arm's length. Peter, though a _fabulous_ fellow and one of their _greatest_ friends, could not possibly begrudge them this feast.

**To Be Continued!**

Well, that's it for Chapter One. What thinks thou, o lovely Reader? Got any pranks on your back burner you wouldn't mind donating to the needy?


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